No, the East Side Isn't Dead

Has the nexus of North and Farwell lost too many keystone species? Or is the East Side just in transformation?

by

Community News

Milwaukee’s old East Side is to many a 20-something’s playground: an endless path of bars, restaurants and small music venues, some with decades-old legacies and others just sprouting. To others, a tumbleweed bouncing down the sidewalk wouldn’t be out of place. Six years after the Covid pandemic, the area around North and Farwell appears ambivalent about its identity at first glance, marked by what seems to be a chronic drip of business closures and turn-overs.

These shifts are personal to many business owners and operators in the neighborhood. “This intersection was the crossroads of my young life,” says Petey Balestrieri, cinema operations director for The Oriental and Downer Theaters through Milwaukee Film.

Founder of Kawa Ramen & Sushi, Linjin Xiao, has been operating the Japanese restaurant for a decade, initially drawn to the area by its vibrant and hospitable atmosphere. She mourns many recent business closures, feeling that the neighborhood loses a bit of its signature local-ness with each departure.

Others are freshly foraying into East Side spaces looking to create new experiences, such as Alex Edwards of the recently opened Next Bar. “I love being near the lakefront; it's safe and my favorite place.” About a year into business, Edwards is content and optimistic. “We're still open, the drinks are flowing, and customers are happy—that’s all I can ask for.”

Some longtime residents see the current status of the East Side as part of a normal business cycle. Slava Tuzhilkov, owner of Landmark Lanes, remarks they’ve weathered changes before, recalling the 2010 indoor smoking ban. “If you’re asking me what the golden years were of my 20 years [at Landmark], I’m still waiting. There’s always something. That’s life.”

Dying, Dead or Becoming?

So what’s the real status of North and Farwell: dead, dying, or becoming?

Echoes of Covid: rising costs and changing tastes

Balestrieri recalls the day the Oriental shut down, the first local theater to close. “It was just crushing. It was impossible to keep a business going.” Tuzhilkov echoes that no business was safe from the chaos of the pandemic—not even the Oriental Theater or Landmark Lanes, both approaching 100 years in business.

Small businesses stretched stimulus packages and navigated supply chain disruptions. “In many cases, you had to order a certain minimum of something you stocked to get a delivery,” explains Landmark Lanes general manager Kevin Glass. “Let’s say you’re a tiny corner bar, and you have to order 12 cases of Hennessy to get a delivery at all. You have no need for an order of that size...what are you gonna do?” Xiao notes that the issue persists, citing rising costs of food, supplies and wages, leaving small restaurants scant flexibility to absorb the increases.

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Having operated Landmark Lanes since the early 2000s, Tuzhilkov and Glass understand their patronage in waves: “First the regulars around 4 p.m., the families and post-work crowd around 7, then the college kids closer to 9.” Glass notes that the latter wave is sparser nowadays, that younger generations are drinking less. The two consider Covid as the catalyst for these shifts in going-out behaviors, partially because many venues now close earlier than they did pre-pandemic. They also argue the pandemic impacted young people’s socialization, causing many to miss rites of passage as we’ve traditionally understood them, such as a first drink.

Geographic division, economic and political impacts

“Milwaukee has very clear neighborhood divisions,” says Balestrieri. “Growing up, I knew what ‘Holton’ meant.” He’s referring to red lining, a form of segregation historically enforced in many U.S. cities that restricted home ownership based on race. Banks graded neighborhoods on a scale from Desirable to Hazardous for prospective homeowners, but “hazardous” areas were typically only graded as such based on the number of Black or brown households in the neighborhood.

Milwaukee’s geography still reflects this highly segregated past, and the historically immigrant-populated Lower East Side is no exception. Some argue the area is gentrified, disempowering Black and brown Milwaukeeans from becoming business owners in the neighborhood, let alone living there. Edwards affirms, “it’s not just a feeling; statistics and demographics show a lack of Black-owned businesses on the East Side.”

Then there’s the elephant in the room: ongoing political turmoil continues to worsen an already unsustainable cost of living for business owners and residents.

Balestrieri says it’s difficult to convince people to spend their hard-earned dollar on the arts when resources are scarce. Between wide-spread corporatization and chaotic federal deregulation, he feels there are no longer financial safety nets for small businesses. “Large corporations can wait you out and squeeze you out.”

East Side BID Director Ryan Laessig disagrees that big business is the problem. “Yes, inflation is causing businesses to struggle citywide, but speaking with East Side property owners, their goal is to fill these vacant spaces with as many local businesses as possible and, of course, include national brands if available.”

Edwards feels the area is fairly stable thanks to the mix of well-known national chains and mom-and-pop shops but acknowledges the scarcity dynamics at play. “I'd attribute [closures] to broader economic factors, such as inflation and stagnant wages. With prices high, people shop less or stay in.”

For Tuzhilkov and Glass, the impact elevated prices have on their clientele is glaring. Glass argues that businesses have a role in making a space for their patrons during hard times that balances bringing in revenue with lowering economic barriers. “Instead of pool tables and darts,” he says, “you have restaurants that students can’t afford,” and don’t necessarily want to linger at.

So what needs to change? And what does the East Side community actually want to see on their block?

Nostalgia and Passing the Torch

The East Side finds itself at the crossroads of two prevailing perspectives: older generations seeking to understand what younger patrons want can drift easily into “kids these days” narratives; meanwhile Millennials and Gen-Z’ers aspire to have a wink of disposable income during a national affordability crisis. In any case, most agree the East Side is in a moment of transition, not what it was and not yet what it could be.

Authentic and engaging experiences often come from where nostalgia and new ideas collide, where the torch is passed. Balestrieri argues that legacy institutions like those lining North and Farwell have an obligation to be stewards of those shared experiences. He looks back on his mother taking him to see Hal Ashby’s Harold and Maude at the Oriental; decades later, he emotionally recalls taking his son to a screening of the film. Balestrieri also points to the Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast hosted regularly at the Oriental as another example of the theater’s stewardship. He feels the show’s recurrent popularity is evidence of younger folks carrying forward and protecting storied creative spaces. Rather than passing a torch, he calls it “keeping a torch lit.”

Tuzhilkov and Glass wish to see more passing-of-the-torch amongst Landmark Lanes patrons. They want to remain a space where new generations and loyal regulars can coexist, maybe even learning something from one another. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did at the bar when I was your age, you know?” They also argue that a divey atmosphere is at times more inviting than an upscale restaurant. Glass feels that the community misses their greasy spoons and dive bars, especially students who have heard their parents regale stories of impossibly cheap beers and the fabled Oriental Drug.

Community Connection and Social Supports

“There used to be theaters like the Downer and Oriental on every block,” says Balestrieri. He argues that vibrant main drags—your Downers or Farwells—are becoming fewer and farther between, and that variety is integral to a thriving community.

Tuzhilkov and Glass seem to agree, stating that the city’s more recent support for alternate transportation options (e.g. bus and bike lanes, rideshare waiting areas) has helped keep business alive following the death of the taxi. Laessig remarks that though it was an uphill battle, advocacy for traffic calming and pedestrian safety initiatives was crucial. He supports making third spaces like the Ivanhoe Plaza more accessible, citing plans for improved lighting and seating for markets and other festival-like events.

The pandemic put the sustainability of operating a small restaurant into perspective for Xiao—to still be on the map is a feat unto itself. She wants to see local businesses tap into their communities more meaningfully, to grow together. As for how Kawa will authentically connect with the East Side going forward, Xiao imagines working closely with local schools and community programs through events, fundraisers and partnerships. Xiao also joins a growing call for more non-night-life venues to address shifting needs on the East Side.

As a Black-owned establishment, The Next Bar reclaims space on the East Side, fueled by Edwards’ passion to create experiences of celebration and joy in spite of violence. “I aim to uplift my people. This commitment shapes our events and menu offerings,” he says. Their events range from dance parties to poetry readings and female entrepreneur vendor fairs, appealing to a wide variety of tastes. Their menu features original cocktails named after nostalgic Black films, and while sipping you can catch one of the namesake films on an above-bar TV.  “Our goal is to create an experience of Black excellence.” Edwards’ bar is a great example of the vibrance and interconnectedness the area seems to be wanting.

How does it happen?

On a micro scale, Xiao wishes for more support for small businesses navigating social media outreach. It’s a new frontier to many business owners, but is becoming increasingly necessary to get out the word on pertinent news and promote business.

On a macro scale, Edwards wants to reconnect the neighborhood with Lake Michigan, just a few blocks east. “I want to see people enjoying themselves ... ideally, North Avenue would become a bustling tourist corridor like those in other cities, full of people heading to the beach.”

Balestrieri says it’s time for newly creative ideas to get people out and about. “People find their way here because Milwaukee feels so creative and dynamic. They want to get out of the house and find interesting experiences.” He calls upon the communal nature of Milwaukee, crediting the East Side BID with developing Ivanhoe Plaza and Blackcat Alley and citing the success of collaborative events like the Soulstice Festival. He hopes to create more unique partnerships within the “cultural ecosystem of Milwaukee,” supporting fellow arts and culture organizations during a tenuous time.

Laessig, whose pre-BID background is in arts and education, feels the East Side community’s creativity is one of its greatest strengths, lending itself to becoming a prominent arts hub. “We hope to be a beacon of culture to the city.”

Tuzhilkov and Glass are no strangers to creative collaborations and innovations. They maintain a list of famous faces who have graced the so-called underground city—including Hugh Jackman most recently—but they’re brainstorming ways to bring in more local entertainment to address the migration of the grunge music scene away from the East Side. Landmark is also one of only a handful of bowling alleys in Milwaukee offering league bowling, bridging dedicated bowlers through the doldrums of late winter. They imagine an East Side where ownership of historic institutions like their own is passed down from owner to employee, where no small business is forced into selling or shuttering.

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